The Cry of the Icemark - By Stuart Hill Page 0,150
world, would go on, but if he were killed, I don’t quite know how it could.”
“It doesn’t seem possible,” Olememnon answered at last, his low voice quietly mingling with the drone of the bees. “Even the light seems darker.”
“I sometimes think it’s too much of a risk to rely on someone else so much for your happiness,” Thirrin went on. “But without sharing at least some of your life, everything else seems less worthwhile, less valuable somehow.”
“The risk is worth it, Thirrin. Even when fate calls your bluff and you lose them, the risk’s worth it.”
Thirrin nodded, as though he’d just confirmed what she suspected. Then she said, “I can’t say anything to help, of course. Nothing at all, but I need you, Uncle. I can’t do this on my own. Come back to us and lead the Hypolitan infantry, at least until the new Basilea gets used to her role.”
She almost gasped aloud at her own insensitivity and blushed a deep, mortified crimson, but Olememnon raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Don’t worry, Thirrin, I’m perfectly well aware that the Convocation of Women has chosen a new leader. But any power that I had as an officer depended on Elemnestra. I was only the commander of the infantry because I was her consort. Without her, I’m just another soldier in the army of the Hypolitan.”
“We live in the oddest of times, Uncle. Therefore we may act oddly, and so I, as Queen of the Icemark, appoint you Commander of the Hypolitan Infantry. And you don’t have to worry, the new Basilea is a sensible woman and agrees with me. We can’t lose one of our best officers just when we need him most.”
“But what if he has nothing left to give? How can I lead troops in battle when I don’t even have the strength to think straight? I almost have to remember to breathe; blinking has become a matter for consideration: Do I do it now or wait until my eyes sting? This is what I’ve become now that I no longer have Elemnestra.”
Thirrin looked at him in wonder. Is this what grief could do, make almost a comedy of your life? Reduce grown people to the position of helpless babies? If it weren’t so serious, she could almost laugh. “But the living still need you, Uncle Ollie. Help us, please. If you don’t, then the entire population could suffer what you feel now, or at least those who survive.”
He smiled sadly. “They will anyway, at some point in their lives. Better to surrender to it now. The cause is lost, anyway. Where are the allies? At heart the Vampires and Wolffolk hate us; they won’t come. And without them how long can we hold out against the vast numbers the Empire sends against us? We’ve had some successes, yes. But with every victory our numbers are less, and with every defeat Scipio Bellorum’s army grows as he sends for more and more reinforcements. The struggle is no longer worth the effort.”
A rage suddenly burned in Thirrin’s body, and she stood up, almost incandescent with fury. “Olememnon Stagapoulos, Son of the Mother, one-time Consort of the Basilea of the Hypolitan, Commander of the Infantry of the Moon, your duty awaits you. It is not yours to understand the actions of the Goddess; you can only carry out your role to the best of your mortal ability, and if you must die, then you will do it safe in the knowledge that your small tragedy had some part in a divine plan beyond your knowing!” Her voice echoed around the garden, sending a flight of sparrows into the sky and driving away the sense of torpor that had settled over the huge man before her. He looked at her now, a small puzzled frown on his face as though he were trying to remember something.
“Olememnon Stagapoulos, you will come with me now and take up your role within the design of the Mother, or your name will forever be disgraced throughout the land!”
“Those who are left to remember it,” he answered defiantly, but his tone had changed and a new energy seemed to be returning to his huge frame.
“There will be many left to remember it, linked in glory to the name of Elemnestra Celeste, Basilea of the Hypolitan and Commander of the Sacred Regiment, who died defending her Queen. The Goddess has chosen that you should live, Commander Olememnon. Obviously you are still part of